


Essentials of Coming Back

by Lilogirl



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Autistic Character, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Reunions, implied depression, yes I know my title is pretentious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27988062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilogirl/pseuds/Lilogirl
Summary: He’s almost certain that the wind has stopped blowing.Why shouldn’t it?What’s taking place right now is far more important than the weather.Troy comes back to Abed, and things are not as they should be.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This first part is pretty short, but the second chapter (which will be told from Abed's perspective) will probably be quite a bit longer.

Troy’s been driving through Los Angeles for about four hours now. It’s been a steady stream of traffic and driving past chatting pedestrians for what feels like the world's most anxiety-inducing eternity.

Normally Troy has difficulty focusing, but today his mind is firmly anchored to the task of driving, and nothing in the world could tear his hands off the steering wheel.

As the hours pass by, the sky darkens, the moon comes out from it’s hiding place, and the number of folks on the street lessens by the minute, Troy pulls into a middle-class neighborhood, and he can’t help but feel some stress when he starts to consider what he’s about to do.

Actually, scratch that. It would be much more appropriate to say that he feels a mountain of stress, stress that is slowly building with every second and clawing at his stomach and creating a kind of wound that can’t be healed, at least not with anything physical.

As he drives closer to the house he had been imagining ever since he tracked down the address, his eyes squint so he can get a really good look at it. The home is slightly dinghy in regards to the chipped paint of the house’s surface, and the grass on the front lawn looks like it hasn't been cut in a month or so.

Troy pulls into the driveway, and a large part of him is still in disbelief that he’s actually here. He had always planned on coming back, but he had never envisioned what it would feel like to be in _this_ driveway, near _this_ house.

He parks the car, purses his lips, and opens them again to take a deep breath, hoping it might release some of the tension.

It doesn’t.

Troy gets out of his car and walks towards the house, his body tensing up by the moment.

He walks up to the front door, still not completely believing he’s finally here, and rings the doorbell.

At first, there’s no response.

For a horrible second, Troy thinks he might have gotten the wrong address, that he drove all this way only for a cold and cruel disappointment, but to his relief, he hears footsteps that gradually grow closer and closer.

The door is opened.

A man stands behind it with his hand on the doorknob, his thumb rubbing the brass surface.

Troy feels a sudden jolt that cuts straight to the core. He’s looking at the person he’s been thinking of returning to for the last three years, and it’s terrifying.

It’s funny, he thinks, how time always seems to stop at the exact moments you want it to speed up, to skip to the moment when all the awkwardness is over and happiness can start again.

He’s almost certain that the wind has stopped blowing.

Why shouldn’t it?

What’s taking place right now is far more important than the weather.

Troy takes in the features of the man standing in front of him. This person looks familiar in so many ways, yet the map of his face has been skewed, if only a little.

He looks older.

Not to say he’s middle-aged or anything along those lines, but he’s clearly a few steps away from the young and wide-eyed college kid he was when they first met. Troy realizes his friend must be approaching his thirties, and he can’t help but feel like he’s missed out on something he can never even try to get back.

This person’s face has just a hint of stubble, and his eyes are sunken and weak. Troy can see that there’s a kind of exhaustion in those eyes, and that’s what scares him the most.

Troy smiles, maybe as a greeting, maybe to break the tension, and holds up his hand as if to encourage a high five.

“Abed?”

The man’s glassy eyes widen.

“It’s me, buddy.”


	2. Chapter 2

At first, Abed doesn’t recognize the man who’s appeared at his doorway. 

He can’t really be blamed. After all, he’s never been good with faces, and Troy’s been through some physical changes, a character redesign if you will. 

However, once he speaks, something is set off deep within his mind, perhaps an overflowing stream of memories, perhaps an alarm. 

Even with Troy’s new beard and increased height, he would know that voice from anywhere, because its the same voice that would ask if they could play pirates in the Dreamatorium, the same voice that would playfully argue with him when they discussed what Zelda game _really_ had the best art-style, the same voice who would always whisper such comforting words when things were too loud or bright and he just _couldn’t take it anymore_. 

Abed clears his throat (or gasps, it’s honestly hard to tell) and tightens his grip on the doorknob. 

“Troy?” 

His friend nods his head, and Abed can tell he’s struggling to keep something locked away, whether it’s joy, fear, or some peculiar mixing of the two sensations. 

“Yeah” Troy says with a half-smile.

A million feelings race through Abed at once. 

A part of him feels the shock that only comes with this sort of revelation. 

A part of him feels hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories shooting and buzzing through his mind, overwhelming him with their speed and multitude. 

And still, another part of him feels fear, because there are so many things he needs to tell Troy, and most of them aren’t good. 

There’s one thing in particular that he knows will make Troy never look at him in the same way again. 

But that one secret isn’t the only thing that’ll induce a look of disappointment or even disgust from his friend. 

He knows that he’s going to have to tell his friend about how he’s been since he moved here, because _friends don’t lie to eachother_.

He’s gonna have to tell Troy about all the nights where he couldn’t stop crying because he had woken up from a nightmare and Troy wasn’t there to hold him. 

He’s gonna have to tell Troy about all the times he had felt like there was truly no one there, no one who would ever understand him as much as Troy did, that he was just destined to drift through life alone with no hope of sanctuary.

He’s gonna have to tell him how, even at twenty-nine years old, he still hasn’t gotten used to certain sensations, still hasn’t gotten the hang of keeping his stupid mouth shut and _not_ letting out a wail when things are overwhelming or don’t make sense. 

Abed’s fears are really starting to get to him now, because he can feel his hands quivering. He sees a look of alarm pop up on Troy’s face, and Abed winces because he can’t believe that he’s almost thirty and still having people worry over him. 

“Abed, you’re shaking.”

Abed’s bottom lip starts to tremble, because every time he hears Troy’s voice, more memories rush through his head and he’s just reminded of how joined-at-the-hip they used to be. It was always them, Troy and Abed, Greendale’s resident nerds, and when it was _just_ Abed everything felt so much worse. 

Abed looks at Troy, his eyes filled with vulnerability.

“Troy...you should go.” 

In the movies, when someone tells someone to leave, it’s usually in anger and frustration, but when the words leave Abed’s lips, they just sound impossibly feeble and desperate.

“Abed? What’s going on, you’re scaring me.”

“Troy, just trust me, you need to leave. Right now.” 

Abed swallows and blinks back tears.

“If you don’t, I’ll get mad” 

Troy comes half a step closer to Abed.

“Abed, what happened? Is there something you need to tell me, buddy?”

Abed’s heart skips a beat, because it’s been so long since he heard someone speak to him with that much tenderness in their voice, with such an eagerness to help and a willingness to take the time to understand.

It breaks him. 

Abed falls to the ground, his legs feeling pathetically frail, and tears start to flow.

At first they come in soft little droplets, but it isn’t long until they are rushing from his eyelids, feeling bitterly cold on his tan cheeks, obscuring his vision. 

Abed is breathing heavily, gasping for air between sobs as he hopes to high heaven that he can put himself back together, that he can save himself from being claimed by his weaknesses in all their grave and shameful power. 

Even in his current state, he can see that Troy has crouched down, his face cloaked in horror and guilt. 

Troy says something, something with the words “please” and “I’m here”, but Abed can’t make it all out because now he’s _screaming_ . His voice has become a fire alarm, and it’s straining his throat but he _just doesent care._

He’s kept all this inside for so long, and try as he might he can’t find a key to lock it back up.

He lets it all out.

Every scream is a day without help. 

Every scream is a day without comfort.

Every scream is a day without Troy. 

Troy starts to call out to Abed, trying to calm him, and all Abed can do is look at him, his face saying _why? Why did you choose to come back now, when I’ve become the kind of wreck that no one in their right mind would want to return to?_

Troy keeps calling out to Abed, saying things like “I’m so sorry” and “It’s gonna be ok, you have to trust me” and “I promise I won’t ever leave again.” After trying to comfort his friend to no avail, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a blue plastic toy.

“Do you see this buddy? It’s a tangle toy, like the ones I used to see you play with. I bought one on my way here to give to you as a present. Do you think it would help you calm down if I put it in your hand?” 

Abed, even as he is now, is able to croak out a small “Yes”.

Troy hands over the tangle to Abed, who starts to twist, rub, and shake the toy with his fingers. 

Little by little, his breathing evens out, and his tears become slower and softer.

He relaxes his legs, letting them sprawl out in front of him. 

He takes deep breaths, focusing on the sensation of his chest rising and lowering.

As Abed starts to focus all his attention on the tangle, he can’t help but smile, if only a little, because this is just like all those times Troy would hand him something to fidget with back when they were at Greendale, whether it was because of a meltdown or an upcoming doctors visit.

He looks up at his friend.

“Thank you, Troy. For this, and for everything.”

“Your welc-” Troy manages to spurt out, before crying tears of his own.

The two men sit there, the light of the moon shining down on them, letting so many things out for the first time.

Abed clears his throat.

“Troy, there’s so much I need to work on, there’s...so much I need to tell you.” 

Troy nods tenderly. 

“Anything you want to tell me now?”

Abed shakes his head.

“No, not right now, that plot point comes later.” he says solemnly. 

“That’s ok, you need time, I can see that.” 

A few seconds pass, and Abed opens his mouth again.

“Actually, there is one thing I want to say, because I don’t think it can wait any longer.” 

Troy swallows.

“What is it, Abed?” 

Abed releases one soft, shaky breath.

“Troy, I-I al-always...” Abed stutters, struggling to get the words out, even though he had practiced them so many times as a younger man.

“I always loved-” Abed says before the tears come back again, choking him up and making it nearly impossible for him to think straight.

Troy scoots even closer and gives Abed the “can I touch you?” look.

Abed nods.

Troy wraps his arms around Abed’s waist, and raises up his head to give the softest of kisses on his forehead.

“It’s ok buddy, I know, I know.” whispers Troy, petting Abed’s dark tresses. 

“I never should have made you think I didn’t feel the same way.”


End file.
